I think of the way she knew
that eels slid from brook to brook
and then to the sea.
presses each broken thing like an autumn leaf between pages where I watch the pace of disintegration, lacy residue. Rain writes within it a sloppy welter—the neighbor shaking her … Continue reading
1/ Maybe this is how it is: as you fall asleep a small hole opens in the back of your head just above the neck where children love to be … Continue reading
Dear little breast, you were badgered and harassed by needles and nuclear medicine, almost ready to fall off in shame when you only carried yourself with dignity in the … Continue reading